Just Add Milk
by Ponella
Summary: Haddock/Tintin and M-rated for a reason, just to keep you lot forewarned. Feel free to read and review! UPDATED WITH CHAPTER 5!
1. Just Add Milk

**A/N:** I only found the Tintin fanfiction category just recently, and I've been on a bit of a sugar high from baking lately, so I thought I'd whip up my first Tintin fanfiction. I'll admit I've been exposed to the pairing of Tintin/Haddock, and though I feel deeply for those who've spent their childhood with Tintin and could never think of him and the Captain as anything other than good friends, I've always been a fan of slash and I _love_ this pairing, so I'm hopefully adding something to it with this.

It's a baking story, possibly set in modern times to help ease myself into writing anything Tintin-related, but really I think the time period can be as vague as you want as long as you know as much as I do about when our modern-day electric whisks or sleek ovens were invented.

It's gonna be switching POV's, but will start with our lovely Tintin.

**Chapter One**

"Tintin, TINTIN!"

The young man in question, myself in a fresh shirt and jacket, looked up from the book in my hands, the yellowing pages and torn cover indicating its' age.

I smiled at my friend, who came into the room panting as one hand clasped the door frame, "Hello, Captain. Nice run?"

"Don't you take the mick of me now, lad, n'come look what I've found." Captain Archibald Haddock stood and caught his breath, holding up a piece of lined paper that looked as though it were from an A5 notebook and had been taped back together many times.

A hastily scribbled title stood out, obviously written down in ballpoint pen and underlined: _Devil's food cake_.

"Chocolate cake? A bit frivolous even for you, surely?"

"No, lad, this is a _recipe_ for chocolate cake! And a mighty fine one if its past reception is anything to go by."

I added a new bookmark into the book's open page, and replaced it [now closed] on the arm of the chair I was engulfed in. I just about managed to escape its' leathery clutches before Haddock drew me in the direction of the massive hall's kitchen, "You can't even cook, nary _bake_! How do you expect to make a cake with no prior experience?"

Captain Haddock stopped, shocking me, and I slammed into the man's back in shock before he rounded on me menacingly – or it would be menacing, if not for the mischievous look in his eyes.

"You, m'boy. You must have something about baking in that great noggin of yours? C'mon, we'll make an adventure of it!"

I allowed myself to be dragged to and fro through the great myriad corridors that lined the inner-sactum of what we called home, wondering when and how the captain had gained such energy, but I suppose it could accompany his usual childlike innocence.

Being of Belgian descent, of course I had grown up around things like baking, and not to say I hadn't picked up a few tricks – no, I had been amongst the best back home, before the allure of journalism ensnared me within its inky grasp. I never looked back, nay, even think about getting back into the old game.

I sighed as we entered the kitchen; quite modest for a place as big as Marlinspike, but we both thought it felt more homely that way. I walked my way around, rummaging through the cupboards I knew so well in search of the necessary ingredients.

"You've done this sort of thing before, eh?" Haddock stood by on the sidelines, looking like a lost puppy as I took control. I didn't answer him, instead focusing solely on the task placed before us.

He dropped the piece of paper on the counter, and I picked it up just as nonchalantly.

We ran through everything, I myself handling all four eggs; _I can't possibly allow him to handle anything this fragile_, I told myself.

I felt a hand snaking round my side, followed by a hairy arm, and gasped.

"Sorry, lad… need to grab the sugar."

_Wonder what else you need to grab_, I thought as my heart rate returned to normal.

It wasn't unusual for me to have feelings for my closest friend, especially after all we'd been through. I smiled at him, craning my neck to face him as best I could and pretending like nothing had happened, "Perfectly alright, Captain."

* * *

><p>Dammit. No, really, <em>dammit<em>. That boy is just too damn sexy.

Sailors and all other manner of men, young and old, throughout the years have called me 'Captain' and I've thought nothing of it. Just a title… until Tintin started calling me by it.

I'd felt him tense up in front of me as I reached over his back with one arm, and I made some naff excuse about sugar. Well, the icing needed to be made.

Tintin smelled of sugar; not to mention a special kind of printing paper that drew me in the same way some people got about the smell of burnt toast.

I looked down at my erection. _Damn_. Maybe not in _exactly_ the same way.

"Are you alright?"

Dammit, I must have been looking vacantly into space, because I still hadn't let go of the sugar. I placed the bowl on the countertop and leant against the same surface, nodding, "I'm a'right, lad. Just not as young as I once was…"

The boy laughed, and it was like twinkling bells invading my eardrums, "You're getting all hot and bothered over a little _baking_?" he smirked and returned to his own work, noting that the oven had dinged some time during our conversation.

I didn't know whether to kiss him or punch him at that last statement, but at the time I knew I could only settle for neither. I mixed the contents of my now sugary bowl of icing mixture, concentrating on the job I'd been given, just barely. I heard Tintin tut at my side, and he handed me an old dual-ended electric whisk he'd salvaged from one of the the many dusty drawers in the room.

I stared at it, daring it to jump out at me, anything to lull my increasing arousal. I eventually got back to work with it, blocking out any thought of the man next to me;ot even a young man anymore, and I suppose I'd had no right to think of him as one in the first place.

The bottom half of the cake had entered the oven half an hour ago, and now while it was my job to ice it, Tintin placed the top half carefully in the oven. He didn't think I was was watching, I knew, but I saw every wiggle of his hips as he knelt down to the door's level.

Heat was still emanating from the contraption, causing him to sweat. Delicious beads of perspiration appeared on every spot of visible skin, and I had to fight my own senses to regain some kind of control.

_Stop it! The boy is off-limits!_ I thought angrily to myself, involuntarily licking my lips as Tintin subconsciously did the same.

I heard the door slam shut, not long before I realized I'd iced the bottom half of the now crumbling cake to within an inch of its life. I quickly placed the bowl to one side and stood to attention, wondering what I had to do next.

Tintin smiled, and it felt like I was getting my sea-legs all over again.

* * *

><p>I smiled to myself, knowing immediately what game we were playing.<p>

Not to say that the whole sugar incident wasn't a nice move, but by this point I could be pretty sure I was winning.

I'd fought back with a well-timed bum wiggle, and delighted in the sound of my adversary's breath halting. I sat to look into the oven, actually focusing on the work at hand now that I'd got my own back. The heat was nigh-on overwhelming when I sat this close, but I had enough eyes in the back of my head to sense that the Captain was staring.

I closed the door, but with enough gentleness to hear that my dear Haddock had come to his hapless senses and dropped the bowl on the forsaken granite-moulded surface before us.

I stood, using that rare grin that I knew set my friend's heart racing. "You were saying, Captain?"

"Eumh?" the Captain looked me in the eye, and again I saw those brilliant sea-blue eyes and my resolve almost cracked.

"About you and baking. When did you come across this recipe?" I said, grimacing as my voice gained a higher pitch of its own accord.

"There are allot of things in this place that I still don't know about, and records ain't one of them," he retrieved the ratty slip of paper, turning it over and once again before placing it again on the counter, "I found this recipe in an old Haddock family album – coincidentally in one of those bookshelves you're so fond of."

"Was there much else in the album?"

The Captain laughed and shook his head, "Past's past, m'boy. And besides, I think our latest adventure is nearly finished."

As if on cue, the oven dinged monotonously as my confidence was reaffirmed for a few seconds, and I knelt down to inspect what I could only guess was a perfect confection. Had we really been gawking at each other for half an hour? I opened the door again, agog at the sweet smell of our hard work coming to fruition. For a moment I even forgot about the other task still presenting itself to me, and as I looked back up at Captain Haddock all thought melted away.

I laid a tea towel against my open palms and carefully pulled the burgeoning cake tin out from above the grating, relishing in the hungry gaze I knew _I_ was pinned with, but again I looked up and he looked away.

He took the job of icing yet again, and I stood back to watch his handiwork. Lazy yet practised strokes of the patisserie blade gave me cause to imagine what those age-old motions would feel like as a hand caressing skin. My own pale complexion shivered joyously at the idea, and I persevered to use it later. Well, sooner rather than that, one could hope.

"Right, I think we're done." the Captain announced, looking over our creation with pride.

"Oh, wait!" I exclaimed, snatching two little bowls from behind the bread-bin. I beamed at him, feeling my own pride coursing through my veins, "Guess what these are!"

"Well, I know that one's the three flakes you've crumbled up, but the white stuff sort of perplexes me." he stared at the white powdery substance contained in the bowl sitting in my right hand.

It was my turn to have a sane moment, "It's crushed up meringue!"

Haddock's eyes widened, as we both knew he had been thinking of something else entirely, "Thundering typhoons, why didn't you say so?"

"I was saving these as a surprise at the end, to add to the top of the cake. If you think it's a bad idea, I'll just…!"

"No, no! Just a shock, s'all. Most of the time someone making that kind of move is about to point a gun at one of us." the Captain blushed, and I couldn't help by find it adorable. Time to step things up a few notches.

I smiled, adding my new ingredients to the cake in only a few seconds. I looked to the near-empty bowl of icing a few times, and knew I was only piquing his curiosity further.

As I finished up, I grinned even wider and looked at him with doleful eyes that Snowy had used so many times on me – so what? It just meant I had a good teacher, though I may not be using the lessons gained for exactly the same purposes. I took up the thing that was obviously the current object of my desires and cheerfully declared, "Can I lick the bowl?"

The Captain released a choked breath, but I knew my job was only half done, "Do you mean…?"

I laughed, "It doesn't have to mean actual _licking_!" I retrieved a spoon from the cutlery drawer, managing to juggle that and the icing bowl in my hands, and brandished the piece of cutlery at the Captain's face, "This works just as well!"

* * *

><p>He then gazed at the spoon and instead proceeded with a dainty finger, plunging it in what was left of the mixture and scooping up a minuscule portion, only to lick the substance off the tip of said finger without leaving a trace.<p>

"Boy," I shook my head, _No, he's a man now. A grown man who has the right to make his own decisions!_ "Would you mind…?"

"Anything for you, Archibald."

I was pretty sure my eyebrows shot up at this. In all the years we've known each other, Tintin has never called me by my first name, even though I'm sure he's had the chance to learn it on many occasions. I'd even told him my name when we met; and again in full a few adventures later.

I didn't think any title coming from his lips could arouse me more than 'Captain', but this certainly took the cake (a pun so aptly coming to mind for our current situation). I pulled him to me with one arm, revelling in the feel of his surprisingly lithe body as I crushed my lips to his.

He tasted like chocolate; what else could I expect? But there was a hint of ink, proving that he'd been nibbling those special pens I'd got him for his 21st. Again, I wasn't surprised.

Luxuriating in the blue-green eyes, still open, tinged with shock and… fear?

I gained my marbles as soon as I'd lost them, pushing him away with as much gentleness as I could muster.

"I'm sorry, lad… don't know what came over me." I wiped my forehead – dammit, was the oven still on? – not daring to meet him in the eye. Not daring to face such disgust and downright _rejection_.

"I think you do, and… I guess I shouldn't have been trying to seduce you."

* * *

><p>I laughed at my own admission, batting eyelids at my befuddled Captain while he stood there, unusually quiet.<p>

I returned the favour, this time with a small kiss on the lips. Just a hairsbreadth away and anyone would have missed it, but not the recipient, "And if I had known it would be this easy, I would have done it _years_ ago."

"You've been making me go half out my mind with your antics, and now you're telling me…" he shouted, but he couldn't finish as his face became clouded red with what I assume was anger.

"And don't forget _you_ suggested this little tryst. In the kitchen? Classy. No, the best place to do it!" I picked up my tan greatcoat from where it hang limply on the back of the chair nearest to me, ignoring Haddock's stuttering half-silence. I rounded on him after I'd got the second arm in, and finally it was my turn to shout, "I can't even be in the same room with you, without my pulse going through the roof. But how am I supposed to compete with any of this?" I held out my arms, gesturing to Marlinspike Hall and maybe the world in general, "Or the ocean, or any of the floozies you've been with in the past. I can't stop to think if… if maybe we had never met." I sighed, feeling drained as I leant against the tabletop, being mindful of all the baking things still set out.

"I'd give everything up for you." he slammed the teatowel down and didn't think of where it where it fell [I nearly giggled in my head at this], "Even the bloody drink!"

"And I could never do anything that would amount to the same." I shook my head, "Don't you think… in all my years of experience, I would have _loved_? But there was only one I could ever have those sort of feelings for."

His hands on my hips, and finally I was able to savour it. There was something neither of us acknowledged, of course, but that could wait until later.

There was a more pressing matter _against my thigh_.

I gasped, even though I had rightly noticed it before. It always disappeared when someone like Bianca Castafiore came into the room, and at this point I let the giggles escape in a tundra of noise. I smiled into the kiss, sensing that he was smirking in triumph against my lips. My tongue waded through his lips without protest, and I rolled my eyes at him as he yelped at the intrusion.

He pressed me against the now ruined table – we wouldn't be getting Nestor to clean it up for a few months afterwards – and I vaguely heard the sound of things being moved to the floor. Eggs cracked and flour escaped around the room in short puffs, giving the room an even stranger breakfast-y smell and giving the sight before me an angelic glow. I wrapped my arms further around him, and he, in turn, brought my legs to wrap around his waist as our frenzied kisses turned to pleasurable groping. I rocked my hips against his, laughing as his breath hitched once more.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." he growled in my ear, and I know for a fact that we both know what I'm going into.

I went to the shell of his, subtly nuzzling my face against his fuzzy cheek and whispering breathlessly, "I'd like to find out."

"Shut up." the Captain _whimpered_, again reminding me on the tensile power I had over him.

We were done talking; for now, I resisted the urge to give into his roaming hands. I kissed back with a vengeance, grinding myself against him amidst our passionate fury.

I bit into his neck as he mewled deeply, arching against me in bliss. I didn't have the heart or the verbal wherewithal to remark that he'd need to wear something with a high collar the next morning.

I fisted my hands eagerly in his jumper, silently wishing for it to disappear. He cottoned on, lifting me fully onto the table and removing all clothes completely.

"We should probably stop… if you want to." he muttered, myself knowing it to be my last chance at salvation.

"You can't think of stopping now!" I was rarely one to get in a tizz, but I'd hope my tone told him that this was one of those moments.

"You've not made this easy for anyone, y'know." despite his words, he prepared me with a haste I knew bellied them tenfold.

My back met cold polished wood, and I moaned into the latest kiss. The Captain was being downright unfair.

"Please… don't be gentle."

* * *

><p>If Tintin hadn't said it himself, I wouldn't have believed he'd ever want it that way.<p>

I gathered his surprisingly tense body further into my arms and thrust home, delighting in the strangled sound that escaped my lover. Somewhere between a groan and an admission of love, but it was easy to tell which he'd been aiming for.

The cum that already soaked his stomach told me that he mayn't have just been _reading_ when I'd walked in on him earlier that day. I couldn't even think of how something like that had possibly escaped my keen senses when he again sunk his jowls into my burning skin. I repaid him in kind, changing angle and thrusting against _that spot_ which caused him to add to the wall of already drying seed.

If I'd known I had the power to make him feel this way, I would have given in to all his seduction techniques _years_ ago. Part of me wondered how he had gained such intimate skills, but another little mystery of Tintin's life was being solved even as our bodies joined in solicitous embrace.

He came for the last time, and so did I, pausing to empty myself inside him as we both careened off the edge.

We came down from our respective highs in silence, mine taking a little longer than expected. I sagged against him, whispering something unintelligible into the juncture of his neck.

After a minute or so, I felt a tap on my shoulder and quickly removed myself from our entanglement, barely noticing Tintin look behind us at what I assumed was the door; It wouldn't do for a world-renowned journalist the be caught in naked activities with another man, especially in such an open setting.

He still sat on the table, seemingly incapable of getting up at the time (I chuckled in my head at my own work), and stretched to pulled something out from behind him that hadn't been caught in the crossfire of our lovemaking.

He laughed, and struck me gobsmacked when he pulled an unopened carton through the gap between us, "You know what? I think we forgot the milk."

**A/N:** Tintin hasn't been a big part of my childhood (I only really got into it last year) but baking has, and part of me was yelling 'OMG THE MEMORIES SULLIED!', but I had to write this after me and my mum did the very same thing sometime in half-term – that is, we completely forgot the milk. But the cake was still tasty! And at the end of half-term I had a dream about Thomson and Thompson as hairdressers so this was bound to happen.

I'd like to think I'm another person filling a rather wonderful niche in this 'dom we call fan, but it's probably just another PWP fic. Still, at least this isn't another one being hurled into the steadily growing pile of 'unfinished' in My Documents. And it's a long one! Writers block didn't blockade me into submission this time.


	2. Bathtime Words

**A/N:** …Ironically, I came up with this little sequel whilst having a bath. Enjoy! (Starts in Haddock's POV)

It really goes on from anywhere, but your best bet is probably the end of the last chapter.

Oh, and I almost forgot – thanks for all the kind reviews! It's always terrifying when I put up a new story, especially one with territory as uncharted (in my own circumstances) as the Tintinverse, so your lovely reviews brightened my week exceedingly and made me a little less fearful that a wormhole of unhappy Tintin-traditionalists are going to suck me into an abyss called Hopelessness.

**Chapter Two – Bathtime Words**

After the whole baking incident, we decided to take things at an easier pace; of course, there were still some questions that needed asking.

"Come on, Captain; you can't honestly tell me you never licked the bowl as a kid?"

"Perfectly _un_hygienic, even for a sailor." I chastised back, "And I thought you of all people would know better."

"It wasn't in my plans to fall for a rugged sea captain; and a voyeuristic one at that!" he smirked knowingly, "I performed that little show just for you."

I smiled myself, "Thank god; you'll be the death of me if you keep any more of that up."

"But you still love me."

I do. I love this stupid, amazing young man.

I looked down at out respective bodies, and laughed, "Think we're both in need of a shower." _Or a very intimate bath_.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." he grinned and leant against me, obviously motioning for us to head to his room as his own legs weren't up for the journey.

I'd given him the best room in the house (besides mine), where I could see all manner of paper, newspapers and other journalism paraphernalia littering the accommodating room. The boy buried himself in his work, it was true. How we'd manage to go for a second – or third – round on that already-burdened bed, I'll never know.

His smile never faltered as he led me past his enormous workload, to the surprisingly clean and tidy bathroom beyond.

I heard the sound of water running, but my eyes (and most of my brainpower) were firmly focused on my lover's backside. The swollen, reddened hole was a bit of an eyesore, though one that I had gladly created.

I knelt down in front of his wonderful arse, pleased that he was too preoccupied with the shower to notice nor care. I gave his puckered opening an experimental lick, watching and waiting as the muscles danced under my torturous tongue.

He groaned, his head flopping down onto the edge of the bath while one hand clung to the shower door for dear life. My smile widened, as did his eyes.

After a few minutes, I found the spot that I knew would drive him crazy, and continued lapping at his traitorous core. Even as I did this, he lost the power in his arms altogether and hung over the tub from the waist up.

He began trying to find friction the bathtub, and I nearly laughed. When had I reduced this resolutely perfect virgin into a man who was about to further slip up in his own precum?

I held him still as the last vestiges of control washed away from his body and mind, and decided he was still too fragile to stand up in a shower for long. I placed him in the bath, filling it with warm water and watching Tintin sink into the cleansing waves. I soon realized the water was turning white from the amount of seed we had exchanged – and he was probably coming all over again, if his face was anything to go by. Not to say I wasn't enjoying the sight, but every pulse of hot seed made me jealous that I wasn't getting the same effect, whatever it was.

I returned from my daze to find him gesturing to the other end of the tub as the entire thing was refilled with fresh water, "Join me?"

* * *

><p>I was overjoyed when he entered the water, but his face told a different story, "Tintin, I…"<p>

I put a finger to his lips, "Shh. This isn't time for talking." I pulled a bottle of bath soap from one of the ledges, laving it on my captain and feeling his body relax under my questing fingers.

I grinned, watching his eyes close and the back of his head hit cold porcelain. He began writhing questionably when I reached his groin, which told me he'd had enough of my ministrations for one day.

He saw his opportunity and pulled me into his arms, and I wouldn't want to get out of his strong grip for the world.

"You fucking _tease_." he whispered, sucking my neck idly. I was about ready to reply when he flipped me over and drove himself into me, ragged breaths now coming out as passionate howls.

I barely noticed his beard scratching my shoulder blades as he re-evaluated his angled, bearing down on me from behind with one of those brilliant arms coming to hold me up at the waist. I was shaking violently, I conceded, though whether this was from my own or Haddock's frantic movements was one mystery I'd never figure out.

Somewhere distantly he growled my name, but my ears were deafened to anything but my own breathing. I found an ounce of strength in lower body and slammed back against him, now impaled on his shaft as he continuously filled me to the brink of destruction.

I was in too much ecstasy to speak, but most likely I would have proclaimed my love to anyone who could hear it, were the ability present. Through my blissful state I felt a hand coming round to jerk me off in time with the culprit's shortening thrusts.

"Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren't we?" he chastised, but part of my mind only took in the sharp tone while my entire body was otherwise occupied.

I changed the angle on his pulsing cock, briefly cheating him out of his rhythm before he found the sweet spot to end it all.

"_Mon amour…_" I whispered as all consistency left our movements and I soaked his hands with seed.

His ego would no doubt be inflated for months after this – the handsome, burly sea captain who had finally been the one to reduce the bravest young journalist in the the universe to a quivering wreck – but I didn't care, couldn't with all the wonderful feelings that surfaced.

He muttered back something unintelligible, I couldn't quite make out if it was French or English; whatever the words or language, the meaning still stood clear amongst the again sullied water.

And those beautiful eyes that bore into me with such an intensity, I knew he was too far gone to be properly looking, his gaze occasionally shifting to meet my sodden loins.

"Tintin, I…"

I pulled him into a kiss (quite tricky from our current position) and whispered again, "_Let go…_"

He rocketed into his orgasm, grasping my hips enough that they'd be bruised in the morning and emptying himself inside of me in a few short pulses.

* * *

><p>We were both sated, but not enough that one of us couldn't move.<p>

I'll admit, seeing Calculus standing in the doorway was a shock nonetheless.

"Cuthbert, it's not what it–" I began.

"Ooh, conserving water I see!"

I blinked twice, thrice at the madman who had just walked in on us, dumbfounded. _Please don't let him see the water, please don't let him see the water…_

"And a milk bath, how very trendy!" Cuthbert turned to leave, and I breathed a sigh of relief, "I won't keep you any longer, gentlemen; I was just coming to see if either of you would like to help me test out my latest invention."

"We'll be right with you." I squawked, clasping a hand on Tintin's mouth to stop his giggles from escaping.

"Splendid." he turned back to us for a second and sniffed the air. I held my breath, realizing our cover was probably blown.

"And what is that smell… Sugar and lactose?"

I quickly nodded, "Yes, baking. Me and the boy needed to wash off."

"Ah, well. Make sure to save a slice for me!" he yelled back, finally exiting the room.

Words escaped me once he was out of earshot, but I looked down and saw an extremely bemused Tintin shaking his head and mouthing the words '_He's not getting a single piece!_'.

**A/N:** The idea was always to have a surprise visit from Professor Calculus at the end, I just didn't know how to write that bit up until today XD

This only comes to about two pages in OpenOffice (my usual amount for a chapter of anything in 4/5) so I really feel like I've cheated you all on this one. You decide! The last chapter seemed pretty well received.

Reviews are like the most delicious chocolate cake that I promise everyone can have a virtual piece of if they review… and they're also like our favourite early 20th century dream-team going into an ice cream parlour and coming out with a lifetime ban (You all know what for!)


	3. Death Warrant

**A/N:** Call this getting payback on myself for only giving you peeps half of what I normally would in the last chapter. Also, it's about time things got less PWP and more SLS (Structured Love Story), so I couldn't stop myself from carrying on.

This time, it's totally in Haddock's POV – I was quite tempted to go back to writing in the third person, but my suicidal brain wouldn't let me. Yet, I'm sure now that this story will be continued!

Also, huge warning for what's up ahead; this chapter probably won't be pretty, and certainly not in the way you'd be happy to read about.

**Chapter Three – Death Warrant**

"I still say ya shoulda let me pick me pet name for myself."

"You were in the can; what was I supposed to do?"

"Yes, well… it's hardly an accurate representation of my person."

"It is, _Beef Cake_!" Tintin said, throwing his arms around my [fully clothed] waist.

"Well then, _Sugar Muffin_, I guess we're even."

"On what count?"

"For nearly giving an old man a heart attack, that's what."

Tintin rolled his eyes, and spoke quite freely of our 'exploits', "But you loved every minute of it."

I sighed, quiet enough that he wouldn't hear. I was still a bit unused to this carefree, sexual side of Tintin and it would take a monumental effort to understand his openness.

I wrapped my arms around the lad, realizing that, had we never met, I'd be lying in a ditch somewhere or in the dark alley of a docking bay, no doubt drunk off my arse and twice as washed up. I could thank god for sending me this blue-clad angel with hair a mixture of auburn and gold, that I could rustle only to watch that perpetually upright quiff spring back into place – but then I still wouldn't be thanking Tintin for all he's done for me.

"Say… have you got any new stories on the go, of late?"

"I'm actually quite tempted to go on holiday."

I stared at Tintin like he'd grown another head.

"Of course you need a holiday. You're clearly in need of a psychiatrist if you're admitting it!" I exclaimed, putting my free hand to his forehead, "Are you feverish? Maybe it's–"

He began to laugh in my face and I scowled, "No, Captain, nothing like that! I was just thinking… aren't all relationships about compromise? I know you'd rather take a week of respite at Marlinspike than go on another adventure."

"Blistering barnacles, boy! _I_ know you'd rather be gallivanting off on some treacherous adventure than spend a second letting yourself rest, but… it's not really where ya go or why, but who you go there with. You understand?" I was beginning to think _I_ didn't.

Tintin beamed, and I knew I'd at least made some headway with his stubborn self, "I understand perfectly, Captain."

* * *

><p>I couldn't think how I'd gotten us into this mess; namely, the Thompsons twins and old Calculus (still none the wiser about our last 'escapade') were coming with us, and to top it off, Bianca Castor-whatsit and her lackeys were going to be in the same area as part of some world tour.<p>

The sooner this week ended, the better.

We _had_ made a compromise; we'd go somewhere to relax, where there were still cases abound for Tintin to quench his thirst for a good story. I'd point-blank ordered him not to overdo it on the working, but if I knew him he'd be holed up in his hotel room all day, every day with his laptop and a dozen corresponding leads. He'd bleed the free wi-fi dry before half the week was done.

I'd taken up the task of booking our rooms since he was preoccupied with packing his regular journalistic arsenal, along with toiletries and Snowy's worming treatment. An idea popped into my head, and I'd smirked conspiratorially while hanging on the line.

He drew me out of my reverie, and I quickly switched said smirk for a smile while looking down at him, "Getting a bit sleepy, lad?"

"It's the motion of the plane." he quipped, yawning, "Very curious, never sent me right off until now."

"That'll be love for you." I replied, "If it doesn't make your heart flutter it'll make your brain shut down quicker. Just you let it, m'boy."

"I don't think it's quite safe for me to…"

"For you to what? Get your eight hours? We're on a packed flight, I highly doubt a criminal mastermind will be flying coach."

"_Ooh MY BEAUTY PAST COMPARE!…_" after this, the clatter of trays crashing to the floor could be heard.

I gritted my teeth together and sank further into my seat, nearly perking up when Tintin sank with me, "I _sit_ corrected!"

I looked down at my boyfriend (yes, _boyfriend_, I could gladly think), and saw that he'd dozed off before the Castafiore whack-job had begun her tirade. "Good for him," I muttered to no-one in particular.

"Doubly good!"

"What Thomson _means_ to say is, goodly double!"

I looked up at the detectives with a bitter gaze, "You two better not wake him up with all your tomfoolery."

"Wouldn't think of it! Would we, Thompson?"

"Think of it, would we? _Pfft!_" Thompson laughed, "We're officers of the law, sir! We should not harm a hair on his head nary wake the lad up after he's just nodded off."

"It's not the thing to do in these situations, right Thompson?" Thomson continued.

"Right you are, Thomson!" on the way to their seats, they tripped over their own feet and fell into the arms of a large man (American, I had already conceded, if his own loud-mouthed antics were anything to go by) and I chuckled, being sure not to jostle Tintin around too much.

I curled my arms further around his slack frame, and brought forward my own smile when his only became brighter.

My lover had the curious ability to brighten the atmosphere in any room – be it a gang hideout or a overloaded charter plane. I slipped back more comfortably into my seat and pulled my jacket around myself, falling into sleep easily and dreaming of Tintin.

* * *

><p>Even forgoing the well-placed gap between our seats, our legs had somehow become entangled in the night.<p>

My hand had become glued to his buttock in our sleep, I noted, and his right hand dangling over the nape of my neck. I smiled again, removed myself from the web of limbs we had become, and walked in the direction of the lavatories.

I looked around; even Castafiore was asleep, thank god. People need to be woken up by a rooster, not a harpy.

I made it, but something told me I'd need to go back as soon as I was finished.

"Captain!" I'd only just finished washing my hands; not a bad time.

"Captain Matlock, come quickly!" it was Castafiore who came for me, but I knew the person who called was one of the men, "It's Bread Tin! He's…!"

All my plans of treating Tintin to a whirlwind romance of a holiday were quickly dashed. "What is it, where's Tintin?"

"One moment he was fine and he just started convulsing!" I heard Cuthbert shout, but my mind couldn't comprehend his meaning.

"Is there a medic in the plane?" Bianca shrieked, but I ignored her; I couldn't think, couldn't speak, and the sight of Tintin's writhing body made my stomach crawl.

And all of a sudden, he stopped. Like a flickering light had finally been turned off.

"What do you mean there's nobody here with any medical training! A young man's life is at stake!" I overheard one of the Thompsons yell, though I didn't care to ask which.

"Tintin, _please_…" I didn't know quite what I was asking of him. To speak, to admonish me for my silliness, just some sign of life. I couldn't think of my life without him; surely I'd be nothing, less than nothing without my love by my side.

I remembered, that as we'd boarded the plane he'd told me he'd been feeling a bit queasy, but we both put it down to pre-flight jitters. Well, _I_ did. Could I have caused something, even prolonged it? I didn't want to think, that I could have killed him before we had truly begun to learn our feelings towards one another.

"Tintin, please _wake up_…" I placed his gangly limbs back in their proper places, so at least if he were to wake up he'd be comfortable.

"_Tintin_…"

* * *

><p>As soon as we reached our destination, the ambulance arrived.<p>

"Twenty-two year old male, in a convulsive state before complete comatose. Signs of a toxic substance having entered the body…"

"And what relation are you, sir?"

I blinked back the tears and finally found my voice, "Please, I'm the only one he's got."

The paramedic at the front seemed to think about it for a moment before saying, "Hop in."

I turned back to our bereft entourage once more and spoke to the Thompson twins one last time, "You two'll bring Snowy to the hospital – and you better not cock it up!"

Both detectives looked taken aback, but nodded.

I sat in one of the cold chairs affixed to the wall as the doors closed and the sirens sounded, and I saw the paramedics jamming electrodes into every which way and orifice while Tintin, usually a light sleeper, didn't make a sound.

**A/N:** Not as long a chapter as I would have liked, again, but… I'm evil, aren't I? The whole plotlessness of it all was getting to me. I'd actually been expecting Tintin to become intoxicated in this chapter, not poisoned! But a game of _Upwords_ (anyone who's played it should know what I mean… it's kinda like three-dimensional scrabble, but with less daft rules) ruined that idea and suddenly the plan was to make our favourite Ginger bombshell sick to high heaven.

For about half an hour after I finished this chapter I just went around saying I'd killed Tintin. That's how cool with the idea I weirdly am.

RANDOM UNEXPECTED CHARACTER AILMENT. I don't think we ever learn what country they're actually visiting, but I'd think that allot of time would be spent in the local hospital.

In the next chapter, I'll probably go back to alternating POVs again, and then maybe give Tintin an entire chapter in his POV. See? My brain's started whirring on the side of good again.


	4. Recovery

**A/N:** I'm extremely sorry about the slow update! I've just not been at my best recently, fanfiction-wise – what with a bout of illness before the end of term that sent me into total everything-block, and just this week I got 3 new Wii games which lifted the block but unfortunately eat up allot of my time. I got the movie game! And I'm now stuck at what I like to call 'the drowny bit' – anyone who's been there will know what I mean when I say it's devilishly challenging… and extremely wet. I'm lucky to have gotten as far as I did! But I'll get my brother to help me with that bit if he's ever around. I've also had a bit of a charge crisis, but not the one I usually have – my netbook's kept shutting down on me for no reason, but I think I've deleted the programs that caused the problem so it and the resulting shock hasn't happened again.

And once again, we venture into the story… now back in alternating POV, starting with Tintin. And again, so sorry for my absence! And thanks for hanging on, I know at times I sure as hell didn't.

**Chapter Four – Recovery**

I was floating, which was something I could be sure of.

The world around me was dark for the time being, but something told me that if I found out why the world was this way, I could bring back the light.

Distinctly, I heard sobbing; my lover's cries masking any pain I may have had, and I dreadfully sought to comfort him though my body would no longer obey my commands.

That's it. I was in nowhere, encapsulated within my own mind. Was it always this vast?

I heard voices now, Thomson and Thompson rang out like a bell. How I longed to hold my captain, or even Snowy. Where was Snowy? This had to be a world of my own devising then, though why my mind would conjure up such foreboding surroundings in place of the familiar was beyond me.

I couldn't touch, couldn't feel, and this setting was fast becoming claustrophobic. I wanted out, but the earthly shell was too weak to follow the soul it was tethered to.

A bark in the night, or day or whatever time it was; I knew Snowy was there, but that did little to raise my spirits. He was just as confused and worried as they all were, I could tell, and I felt something. The ominous clatter of a stretcher being lifted onto a mattress on a wrought-iron bed.

My keen senses were still honed enough that I realized Haddock hadn't left my side once, probably sick himself with concern. My airways were quickly kept afloat by an alternate oxygen supply, and my body fell limp as again the darkness took over.

* * *

><p>"We've needed to induce a sedated sleep to lessen the chance of complete paralysis, but his condition is stable." The nurse explained, smiling kindly at our group. We were obviously terrified for the boy's safety.<p>

"Ruddock, it's been three hours… maybe you should be getting some sleep now, darling?" Bianca said, unusually quiet even for her.

I shook my head, "I was too stupid to see what was happening when he was right next to me. I ain't leaving his side for a second more."

The nurse nodded, "With how much toxicity the blood samples displayed, it's a wonder he's woken up at all. The next 72 hours are crucial to see if his health improves."

"What'll happen if it doesn't?"

"In simple terms, he'll be a vegetable."

The Haddock Curse – it was said to sneak up on all men in one way or another. To lose a ship, to lose a love; it all came down to the same thing, in the end. The last surviving Haddock was doomed to destroy the only thing he could say he loved like nothing else, and Tintin was pretty high up on that list.

I'd stop the booze, give up my worldly possessions for one second when one of us wasn't in mortal peril, fighting for our lives on some moon or in a foreign hospital.

I felt dazed under the stupor that this could be it; I'd lose my ginger wonder.

* * *

><p>It was to everyone's surprise when Tintin finally awoke on the second day, and it was clearly a shock for him to learn that everyone had ignored their plans for him.<p>

Castafiore had removed the necessary dates in her world tour, Calculus had sent a letter of apology to the national science institute informing them that he wouldn't be about to demonstrate his latest inventions for quite some time, and even the Thompsons (though we could be sure they would have forgotten their commitments anyway) stayed in 'close range' instead of making there way to the local Interpol headquarters' lecture on modern detective work.

The boy wouldn't be able to speak for quite some time, at least not before the hospital staff had once again taken every sample, prodded every bit of flesh and scanned his insides for good measure.

My rage was unfounded, but I couldn't stand the thought of a load of strangers [if highly trained ones] looking after Tintin's wellbeing. I supposed that if I could, I'd do it myself – I might very well have to if he didn't show some mobility.

On the third day, Tintin [by another miracle] could speak quite fluently, and we knew even the myriad languages inside his brain hadn't been lost to the drug finally leaving his system, once he was tested a little bit by the attending physician.

Snowy had gone from distressed to humbled in all of a day, and as we looked down at him sitting unbearably quiet on my lap, we both longed for him to leap up and tackle Tintin to the ground, or for a marching band to pass by the building. The silence was deafening.

A nurse came into the room; the same one that had greeted me on our arrival to the hospital, I noticed. She looked uncomfortable about something she had to say.

"I'm sorry, but we'll have to discharge you soon, so you'll have to see if the feeling comes back on its own."

Tintin nodded and smiled, ever the polite bugger, but I seethed in my chair. Tintin had come down with something on a plane flying to _their_ shoddy country, and now they were content giving his marching orders just like that? A rational part of me realized that she and everyone else were just doing their jobs, but that part had been locked out the day Tintin ended up in one of _their_ hospital beds.

"Barnacles, is that it?" I exclaimed, removing Snowy carefully from my lap and into the arms of his fragile master, "I've not gone a day without worrying about this kid, we're all exhausted and he's not even started walking yet!" the rational part of my mind piped up again, suggesting that once we got home we'd have to admit him straight to the local hospital for some physiotherapy. Get some damn better service, too.

I counted to ten in my head, finding allot of my anger to come from fatigue. I just needed someone to shout at, to blame for everything that had happened in the last few days. I could yell at Calculus; he'd never hear half of it.

We were all wearing down each other's patience, and the girl left, clearly knowing when she wasn't wanted and exiting with a professional air.

"Captain, that was highly impolite of yo–!" Tintin couldn't finish for my lips devouring his. I growled low in my throat, to which he started responding eagerly with a kiss of his own.

"Lad, not even being able to touch you, let alone kiss you, for days on end has driven me crazy, I'll admit, but the thought of losing you came first, and…" I leaned into the pale hand placed over my reddened cheek, and I sighed inwardly, "One of these days you're gonna give an old man a heart attack, and… I really hope that old man will be me." I smiled, for the first time in four days by my reckoning. I'll say it again; the boy brightened up any room, any predicament we face he's there with a grin to outshine them all.

Tintin nodded, "This is why we have to get my legs working." then his grin dropped, and a grimace appeared as I made our eyes meet.

"What is it, are you in any pain?"

This time he shook his head, "Will you still love me if I can't use my legs?"

I shook my head back, striking up a laugh, "If this week has taught me anything, it's that our relationship has never been about adventure, or the sexual benefits that come with it. Even if you'd came out of all this completely paralysed, I'd still love you."

Nearly unbeknownst to us, Snowy barked from his position resting on Tintin's abdomen.

"I guess someone needs a walk." I flinched at my choice of words, but they were all I could say.

* * *

><p>I smiled reassuringly, hoping to show him I understood. He removed Snowy from my lap, set him on the floor and began to walk out with him.<p>

"Captain – his lead!" I exclaimed, throwing back the covers, retrieving the lead and running to them.

We both stopped, looked down at the cold tile floor (or more specifically, looked at my gangly legs poking out of the patient garb) and if the shock hadn't overtaken me I would have jumped for joy. I'd just _ran!_

"Tintin… you're standing!"

"Yes, I appear to be." I nodded, my throat run dry as my mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish.

"_Nurse!_" Haddock yelled, quietly admonishing himself for having been rude to each and every medical officer that entered the room.

The _doctor_ that arrived on the scene looked from me, to Haddock, and back to me again, making the same fishy face that I'd portrayed moments before.

It a wonder how I made it through all those tests alive, once I realized just how many invasive and intrusive ones they kept repeating on my frazzled body and mind.

I was discharged later that day, though Haddock still grumbled about it on the way home.

* * *

><p>"Captain, you can't possibility have averted this."<p>

"And that makes it all the worse. I'm supposed to be your boyfriend! Fat lot of good I was."

"And you've also been a very gracious host and friend. What if it was you who'd been slipped the poison? I may have the knowledge to help you, but I'd shut down just like you did. It's a normal human reaction."

"It's bloody weak!" I barked, "And believe me, Tintin, I _know_ weak. This coming from an alcoholic!"

"You didn't touch a drop during my incarceration?" Tintin's voice didn't hold disbelief, but his expression spelled curiosity.

"I only ever moved away from your bedside to get something to eat or use the loo. How could I get a bottle of whisky when I didn't even leave the building?"

"That makes you the strongest man I know. And I'll not hear another word about it until we're back at Marlinspike!" Tintin rarely raised his voice at me without good reason, so I knew from experience to keep quiet. The cab ride and plane journey (no more lethal accidents, thankfully) were made in silence.

**A/N:** You can thank OpenOffice's automatic document recovery for allot of this chapter, and my own brain for noticing all the prevailing spelling mistakes that pop up every now and again.

I'm watching Titanic right now (the new ITV television series) and this chapter keeps giving me very Titanic-y vibes. Is anyone else getting that? And I know I've left the whole poisoning thing terribly unexplained, but I have a big plan for that… probably.


	5. Handyman

**A/N:** Hi, guys! I'm back for good, I guess. This chapter comes courtesy of my dear mother; the woman who suggested I watch the Tintin movie again when I was in a spate of boredom, the watching of which has inadvertently given me the inspiration and proverbial kick up the backside I sorely needed. I'm getting an obsession with Haddock's hands, seriously… wholly in a good way.

Still in alternating point of view (starting with Tintin), with a bigger exposé on everything that's happened in recent chapters, because I've still been giving this category the short end of the stick and even I'm wondering at this point.

This chapter has been completed for quite a while, but I've been putting off posting it for various reasons - the foremost being that I nearly had chapter six done too until my netbook died and I lost a good majority of what wasn't written down. Lucky for me I had thought ahead and placed this chapter in my doc manager before such an untimely death. Any typos are of my own folly! And everybody's darn cute in this chapter.

**Chapter Five – Handyman**

Giggling, I stood against the doorframe of my bathroom, the stick long forgotten, "This really isn't necessary, you know."

"If you have another accident like last week, I want to know you've got some way of getting yourself back up if I'm not there." He said chidingly, otherwise focused firmly on his work.

His 'work' was what gave cause to my distraction. His hands, unbelievably slender and well managed for a man who's spent his life at sea, had the power to bring me to oblivion in a few short minutes. I'd remind him of that fact when I was proven fit and healthy, but for now…

"You only went to restock the pantry, and I can promise I'll never do anything like _that_ again." I still couldn't see why a 'no toast' rule had been implemented anyway, and I'd had my walking stick to lean against the whole time. Until Snowy had mistook it for a 'fetch!' situation… right when I was buttering with a very sharp knife.

Rubbing the bandages on my own hand in memory, I looked around in search of the dog in question. While my love was preoccupied with accident-proofing where I bathed every day, I had the time to check on the other residents of Marlinspike Hall.

I wouldn't get to the Professor's lab in time to see his latest experiment, especially with the crutch, but the absence of Snowy was far more worrying. Usually around this time you'd be able to hear his second unsuccessful attempt of the day to get one over on that blasted cat, undoubtedly with a god-awful clatter following in the dog's wake.

"Snowy!" I shouted down the hall, with little fear that I would be reprimanded by Nestor. Whistling a little in the tone my pet had come to associate with his owner calling him, I was surprised when it had no effect.

"I'm… gonna take a little stroll in the grounds. I've think the Professor's added a new species to his flora plot."

"Just don't take the stairs too quickly, love. Oh!" he seemed to have struck on something, succinctly moving his focus onto Tintin, "Isn't it about time Snowy had his bath?"

"Ah, yes, I'd completely forgotten." and I had; Snowy hadn't bathed once in the time I'd been in hospital, and it was starting to show.

Taking up my walking stick and sneaking out of the room, I sniffed around Snowy's usual haunts (being particularly thorough in the main kitchen), and was puzzled to find know sign of him, not even a small trail of debris. The cat was too calm for Snowy to have spooked it recently.

"Snowy, bathtime!" I yelled, eventually coming across an empty dog bed. I was almost about to give up when a terrible clue presented itself.

A small splatter of blood, only a few inches wide, was inlaid into the middle of the material and appeared to have been there for a couple of days.

"Captain!"

* * *

><p>"We'll find your dog presently, Mr Tintin!"<p>

"What my colleague _means_ to say Tintin, is we'll be able to present you with your dog with our findings."

The first shook his head, "A bit of a mouthful, Thompson."

"What leads could you have? He lives here. I'm sure someone would notice if he was stolen!" despite his words, I could tell Tintin wondered how this had passed under either of their radars.

Snowy had become an invaluable lifeline over the years, to both of us. When he and his master had fallen into my life that fateful night, I'd known from the off that they came as a package. With no possibility of children, Snowy was the baby of sorts in our relationship – I'd promised early on that I wouldn't be surprised if one morning Tintin decided to dress him up in dog clothes.

The second Snowy hadn't turned up for breakfast that morning, I'd known something was up. Far be it from me to question my lover's noticing skills [or lack thereof], but there were times when he didn't let Snowy out of his sight. God forbid something really terrible had happened to the mutt on the one day Tintin was distracted. By the allure of a tinkering sea-captain, if I'm not mistaken.

"He won't have gotten far; chances are he found something to chase after and lost track of time."

"No, Snowy's tracking skills are impeccable; he wouldn't have forgotten the way home if he was miles away. Unless…"

"We'll get him back, lad." It tore me apart to see him like this. First the accident, now this… the universe was obviously conspirating against us. That dog was a part of us, whether we liked it or not.

With a sigh, I led the boy into the aft wing of the house, "In part, those fools are right; he'd never run away from his owner, and if he did he may even be hiding on neighbouring land."

Tintin's eyes lit up with that predatorial journalistic gleam I'd so missed, and I knew I'd hit on something, "You're right, Archie! Are there any dogs or other domesticated animals living on outlying lands? On a farm, perhaps?"

Dazed beyond my limits, I nodded, "There's a farm not too far from here that keeps livestock – I'm not too sure which, but it would be our safest bet for now. Do you want me to get the Thompsons on it?" part of me was really hoping he'd say _no_.

The boy immediately shook his head, making the sparse tears fly in all directions, "Of course not! No discredit to them, but Snowy's my responsibility."

"_Ours_, I think you'll find." I said, taking his hands into mine and being careful of the binding.

The brightest smile I could have hoped for graced his features, "I know, my Captain. Would you care to join me?" he looked down at our entwined hands, and I could see he was still as entranced by my calloused digits as earlier.

"Have something to tell me, boy?" I chided, smirking downright filthily.

"I love your fingers!" he giggled, pulling them to his lips before I could protest. The blush that ran through both our bodies was easily anticipated, and his usually hollow expression turned what could be misconstrued as 'saucy' in most European countries.

I didn't have time to react before he withdrew them again, letting them and the connected limbs fall to my sides.

Right when I'd gathered a semblance of sanity to speak, a strangled howl cut me off.

"Is that what I think it is." I said, looking around to see where it had come from.

"Y-yes. But… that can't have been Snowy, surely? Even if he was injured, he would have called out to us well before now. We must be hearing things."

"Both of us? And I suppose if he was as badly injured as that spot of blood led us to believe, he would have braved the outside world instead on finding somewhere to hold down until we found him? You're smarter than this, Tintin."

"You're right, Captain. That medication they prescribed me must be fuzzing my brain…"

"Yes, well, part of that's my doing. Now, shall we investigate where that noise came from, before I lose my mind?"

It hailed further down the corridor, where a trail of bodily fluids was slowly forming before them, "Oh, what could have happened to him? He's never been like this…"

"Shh!" I shouted, pressing a finger to my lips.

"Did you hear something?" Tintin whispering, eyes whipping in every direction.

"No, s'just your jabberin's getting on me noggin – and believe me, the amount of times I've wanted to say that to you." I said, sure a smirk was slowly gracing my lips,

"Very funny – WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?"

So shocked was I that my love had raised his voice, I barely turned round in time to see the idiot detectives tumbling through the doorway. I sighed, "Yes, what is it."

"It was getting boring in there on our own." one of them admitted sheepishly.

"We're following a lead – just don't make too much noise. This one's gotta a headache." Tintin said, gesturing to me and apparently the essence of calm in the house once again.

The Thompsons nodded in understanding, keeping their mouths shut and their feet on the ground to avoid further accidents.

_Just peachy_, I thought. Walking further into the dark corridor revealed that it, like many other parts of the great manor, had not been explored in a long while.

The howl we had heard earlier differed from the fretting whimpers we heard next. "There!" I exclaimed, overwhelmed with relief – not that I would ever admit that to _anyone_.

"What's happened to him! His stomach, it's… distended."

Being careful not to cause Snowy any more discomfort, I hoisted his surprisingly weighted body into my arms, and for once I was the one of us rendered speechless. How had I let the two most important people in my life nearly away from me, all in the course of a few weeks? After all I'd done to make sure they remained a permanent fixture in my sorry life?

"There doesn't appear to anything wrong with him externally. Whatever it is, it's obviously happening to his insides…" I breathed, little aware of the despair edging into my voice, before turning to the Thompsons, "What're you two waiting for, an invitation? Call a vet!" the strength coming back to my words momentarily, I was pleased when they heeded my words and bungled out to look for Nestor.

Tintin seemed to go pale (well, paler than usual), "Nothing wrong with him externally? His belly's not supposed to be that size!"

All my days captaining at sea could not have prepared me for this. A human being was easy to patch up in a fix, but a dog was a whole 'nother story – I'd only be glad when someone who's job it was to know got here.

"Captain!" Thomson shouted, tumbling through the low door.

"To be precise; ouch!" Thompson muttered, tumbling after.

"What are you two bumbling idiots doing now?"

"The vet; we couldn't find one."

"What!"

"They're all on holiday, apparently; bumper year for tulips." One of them said, though you couldn't be sure which. One of these days we'd have to work out a system.

"I find it hard to believe that all the veterinary specialists in the area have simply gone to Holland for the summer." Tintin said, his logical brain back in full force.

"I know. We had to make several calls to see if they were having us on; even Nestor was dubious about our results." The other one replied.

I'd spent enough time in a ship's medical bay to know when action was needed, but we'd have to improvise a few things…

**A/N:** I think I made Haddock the boss of this chapter. And Tintin's turned into a big girl's blouse, I'm so sorry! Unless you guys like that sort of thing – if so, HIGH-FIVES ALL ROUND! I don't know why I've started writing him like that but I'm rolling with it until he's his bad-ass seductive self again. I also wanted to see what you folks thought of this very Snowy-centric chapter, so enjoy a nice cliffhanger while I deliberate my own backwardsness. Can any of you guess how this 'Snowy arc' will culminate…?

I think warnings are needed for rant!Tin in the next chapter; I inadvertently wrote him a bit bitchy.


End file.
